


Call Me By My Name

by codewordpumpkin



Category: The Blacklist (US TV)
Genre: Fluff, Humor, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-25
Updated: 2019-03-28
Packaged: 2019-12-07 04:46:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18230108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/codewordpumpkin/pseuds/codewordpumpkin
Summary: Liz works at her local Starbucks to help fund her college tuition. Red, unable to let pass the opportunity to know her, drops by under the guise of a regular man who is anyone but the Concierge of Crime - except, he gives her a new name each time (coincidentally, all of his aliases tend to be massive flirts.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was inspired by @gregwillray's tumblr post: http://221beefcakes.tumblr.com/post/183119020113 !

He could hardly believe it.

The little girl whose life fate had intertwined with his, was less than five feet away from him.

_His Lizzie._

Except, she was no longer a traumatized child, but a flourishing young woman. 

She had access to funds that would easily cover her tuition—he had made sure of it—but here she was, working as a barista in a local Starbucks.

_Starbucks._

He had a strong distaste for commercial chains, and this particular franchise was not exempted from his loathing. Forget the fact that the products offered were of mediocre quality—they were just so impersonal. Take him to a hole-in-the-wall noodle shop, where he can hear all about the history of not just the food, but of the _people_ —the poverty they had faced in their homeland, the difficulties endured crossing the ocean, the hardships and struggles of living life as an immigrant in a country that didn’t speak their language.

He enjoyed forging these fleeting but, often lasting, acquaintances.

But there was no one more personal to him than Elizabeth Scott.

Hence, why he was here now, standing in a bustling line in a crowded room of a business he had no affection for when, really, he could have been anywhere in the world—Milan, Hong Kong, Cape Town, Paris—had he been so inclined.

Because, God knew, there was nowhere on earth that he would rather be than with her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, God. I'm truly incapable of writing a proper one-shot, aren't I? Well, this is just going to have to be like my other fics: a one-shot length story with a commercial break(s). Think of this part as an intro! Do let me know if you guys enjoyed and would like to see more :)


	2. Chapter 2

She had noticed him as soon as he entered the room.

_How could she not?_

In a setting that was mostly occupied by college students wearing sweats and leggings, an older man—more or less by two decades—in a perfectly fitted three-piece suit and matching fedora was hardly what one would call _blending in_.

No—this was a man who demanded attention wherever he went.

Already, the other customers who had previously been lounging around, lost in the digital world contained within their phones and laptops, instinctively perked up in their seats, trying not to blatantly stare at him. Whether it was out of awe, curiosity or interest, he managed to hold their gazes without even trying—including hers, evidently.

So, she was surprised—to say the least—when his attention appeared to be fixed solely on her.

His head was tilted ever so slightly to the side, and he was watching her with something akin to… reverence? _Surely that couldn’t be_. But, embarrassed as she was to have been caught ogling him, she looked away before she could decipher whatever it was that swirled in the depths of his unreadable eyes.

The flush in her cheeks had yet to fade when it was finally—or all too soon—his turn to be served.

At least she managed not to stutter when she next spoke.

"Hi, what can I get for you today?" 

* * *

**Commercial break! I'm thinking the next part might be the last (so, hopefully a bit longer than the previous chapters)!**

 


	3. Chapter 3

She was… _breathtaking_.

And he didn’t have to confirm that there was a scar on her wrist to know that it was her, for he would recognize those eyes anywhere: a blue that was somehow dangerously stormy yet deceivingly clear, with immeasurable depths that held both light and darkness, strength and vulnerability… They held an ocean he would give anything to drown in.

“Hi, what can I get for you today?” she greeted, raising her hand as if to tuck her hair behind her ear—a habit, he assumed, considering her lush, brown locks were tied in a low ponytail, mostly hidden beneath the trademark hat that she was required to wear.

What was that saying?

Right.

_She had me at “hello”._

It was when she nervously smiled at him, a pretty blush dusting her porcelain cheeks, that he realized he was staring—and that he had yet to reply.

Getting a hold of himself, he slipped into the persona that could charm—and _had_ charmed—even the most vile beings to have graced the criminal underworld. “Hello…” he made a point of glancing at her name-tag, “Elizabeth. I’ll have a… _tall_ Americano.”

* * *

Attempting not to gawk at the nearly twenty-dollar tip, she mumbled a shy  _thank-you_ before asking for his name, a cup in one hand and a marker in the other. 

_What would his name be?_

_John? Frank? **Donald**? _

She almost snorted at that last thought—there was _no way_ he was a  _Donald_. 

"Bill."

_Bill?_

For some reason unknown to her, she felt almost... disappointed.

She just didn't think he seemed like a Bill.

"Is there a problem?" He smirked, as if he knew exactly what she was thinking. His eyes—now that he was close enough, she could see that it was somewhere on the scale between blue and green—were positively brimming with amusement. 

She quickly shook her head. "No, of course not," she assured him, now a bumbling mess. "One Americano, coming right up... Bill." 

* * *

**Okay, so... I'm a liar. This is not the last chapter—but hopefully the last commercial break! Please, don't hate me.**

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not even going to bother with the whole commercial break disclaimer anymore. Evidently, even I can't trust myself. I'll just say that, contrary to what I previously said, this is not the final chapter. You'll know the story is complete when it's marked as such. I apologize for the constant-but, let it be known, unintentional-lying. I hate meee

It was the early afternoon—some of the slowest hours of the day—which meant there were only a few people and not much for Liz to do, even with the only other employee on his ten-minute break. She was just replenishing some of the supplies when she heard him, recognizing the voice she had heard only once before.

“Hello, sweetheart.”

He was dressed in a gray ensemble today, but the fedora was gripped in his hand and hanging loosely by his side. As a result, she was able to see his hair better—not that there was much to see. It was cropped closely to his scalp, golden in color, and she had a strange urge to run her fingers through it, confirm if it was as soft as it looked.

 _Get it together, Liz_ , she mentally chastised herself. _He_ _’s old enough to be your father._

“Hi—” she said, stopping herself before she could say _Bill_. She interacted with countless customers each shift—and he wasn’t even a regular; he’d probably find it strange to know that she remembered his name and… everything else about him. “What can I get you?”

He pursed his lips, chin raised as he perused the menu. “I must admit, I’m not very familiar with your menu… What’s your favorite drink, Lizzie? I’ll go with that.”

_Did he just call her Lizzie?_

No one but her dad had called her Lizzie—and not frequently, either, as he preferred _Butterball_ —but there was nothing _fatherly_ about the way this man said it. It rolled off his tongue in a smooth caress, and it was almost as if he had physically touched her.

She had to suppress a shiver.

“Um… I like the iced caramel macchiato, but it’s pretty sweet, so—”

“Perfect!” he exclaimed cheerily. “I have a sweet tooth so severe, you wouldn’t _believe_ some of the cravings I've succumbed to in the dead middle of the night…” He rolled his tongue against the side of his mouth, and _dear lord_ , there was definitely _something_ she could imagine him eating in the middle of the night… _For God_ _’s sake, Liz._ “But what’s life without a little indulgence, hmm?” he hummed, eyes twinkling.

She chuckled awkwardly. "Right... What size would you like that in?”

“My self-proclaimed dietitian—who also happens to be my dear friend and spiritual advisor—would suggest I get a small—sorry, a _tall_ —but… what the hell. I like living dangerously.” He released a low laugh, as if amused with an inside joke. “Let’s go with _venti_.”

He handed her a twenty, again waving off the change.

“Sure,” she nodded, innocently asking, “and your name?”

“Nick.”

Although she had gone through the motions of asking, her hand had already been poised to write _Bill_. So, she was caught off guard to hear the unexpected name. “I’m sorry?” she said dumbly, wanting to make sure she had heard him right.

He smirked. “My name—it’s Nick.”

“Oh. Right. Okay. One iced caramel macchiato for, um, Nick.”


	5. Chapter 5

He wasn’t supposed to be here, he knew.

Truth be told, he wasn’t supposed to have met her at all—not after he had left her with Sam nearly two decades ago.

And yet, here he was for the fifth time in half as many weeks.

During almost every moment of the day, there was always _something_ he could be doing to further strengthen his empire: meetings to attend, deals to make, people to execute, assets to turn. But he would postpone even the most pressing matters without a trace of regret, gladly lose millions of dollars in missed opportunities, and allow a traitor to live another day if it meant having another conversation with her, hearing another laugh, seeing another blush.

Raymond Reddington was a man who maintained control in all areas of his life, but when it came to Elizabeth Scott…

He was powerless.

* * *

“That will be for Kenneth.”

“Kenneth,” Liz drawled slowly, sounding uncertain to her own ears. “Are you buying for a friend today?” she asked innocently.

“No,” he smiled with a confused furrow to his brows, “should I be?”

“Your name is Kenneth.”

“It is.”

_Okay, what on earth was this man playing at?_

It was the same routine each time.

Every few days, he would come in during the slowest hours of her shift—always dressed in a subtly different suit and, of course, a matching fedora—greet her with a grin she had _no doubt_ could charm the panties off of Putin, charmingly ask her what drink she recommends, openly flirt with her while she made said drink— _at least, she was **pretty sure** he was flirting with her_—take a sip of said drink—which made her stomach clench in nervous anticipation of his reaction—thank her for the excellent recommendation— _his words_ —then leave with an implied promise of another visit.

There was only one thing that had been _different_ each time:

_His name._

* * *

“Here you go, _Kenneth_ —one cool lime refresher,” she said, making it quite difficult to _not_ hear the way she emphasized his name of the day, which, in turn, made it nearly impossible to keep down the chuckle that threatened to escape.

Fortunately for him, he had a habit of defying the impossible.

“Thank you, my dear,” he wrapped his fingers around the cup, ignoring the flutter in his chest when they brushed against hers, “I’m sure—”

He stopped talking when he realized she hadn’t let go of the cup.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, would you like to have it?” he asked, his eyes wide and his voice sincere. “It’s yours for the taking, Elizabeth, truly. I wouldn’t deny myself the chance to buy a beautiful woman a drink.”

“... Do you mean it?”

He had been feeling rather smug with his cheeky remark, but her unexpected response caught him off guard.

He tilted his head, the confusion in his features real this time. “Do I mean what, Lizzie?”

“You wouldn’t deny yourself the chance to buy a… woman a drink?”

She was blushing from the neck up, at this point, and he was nothing short of _enthralled_ by the pretty flush. He also didn’t miss the way she purposely left out the world _beautiful_ in her shy question.

_Did she truly not realize how stunning she was?_

If only he had the right, he would take every opportunity he could get to remind her of her ethereal beauty.

He would give her a pass… for now.

“Yes,” he finally replied, swallowing the sudden lump in his throat.

“Good,” she nodded, “then you can pick me up tonight at eight.”

 _Was she_ _… Was she asking him on a_ **_date_ ** _?_

Judging by the look on her face—coy but self-conscious—she was.

“Okay,” he said dumbly, unable to form a more suave response at that moment.

He was actually supposed to be on his way to Tokyo by then, but this was _Elizabeth_.

 _Kurosaki will have to wait_.

“But…” she began, hesitating.

“Yes?” he urged, still in a daze.

“I don’t go on dates with strangers,” she said firmly. “So... you’re going to have to tell me your name.”

She shut him up before he could even open his mouth.

“And I know you are not Bill, Nick, John, Frank _or_ Kenneth, so don’t even go there,” she warned, mock-glaring at him from beneath her long, thick lashes. “ _Your real name._ ”

_Jesus Christ—she wouldn_ _’t even have to lift a finger to get him to reveal the numbers to his accounts, the locations of the bodies, the story behind each and every scar—including the ones on his back._

**_Powerless._ **

He was well and truly powerless against her.

“Raymond.”

“Raymond,” she beamed, her cheeks nearly splitting, “I like it.”

He did, too.

In fact, he couldn’t remember the last time someone had made his heart stop just by saying his name.

“But you can call me Red,” he said, somehow gathering enough air to speak those words before the love he felt— _love?_ —could fill his lungs, his chest, and bring him to his knees to collapse at her feet.

“Well, _Red_ ,” she finally let go of the cup, only to extend it for him to shake, “it’s nice to finally meet you.”

And when their hands finally clasped and tangled, the drink forgotten on the counter between them, they both felt the jolt that sent goosebumps down their flesh.

“I'm Elizabeth—but you can call me Lizzie.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY COMPLETE! Thank you guys so so much for all the love you showed toward me and this fic. I see all your kudos and read all your comments, and they truly mean the world to me :') Hope you guys enjoyed till the end!


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